


Into the Woods (J2 NC17)

by brutti_ma_buoni



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Community: spnkink_meme, Forests, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutti_ma_buoni/pseuds/brutti_ma_buoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Can I have some porn where its hypermasculine!scruffy!rawr!Jensen who rescues damsel-in-distress!Jared from SOMETHING and then they have hot dirty sex in the forest? Please?</p><p>There may be more 'in a cabin' than 'in the forest' to this. But. Scruffy and sex, yes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Woods (J2 NC17)

He was a sight for sore, panicky eyes. Seriously, a _sight_. Jared was a long way from home, and out of his element, but nothing in the world would make him able to overlook this guy. Woodsman he might be – well, was, no mistaking the three-week beard and the look of a man far, far away from a hot shower with grooming products – but he was _gorgeous_.

He was also incredibly well-timed.

"Um," said Jared, and the guy ignored him. "Excuse me?" Jared's voice sounded a little wrong, out here, but he wasn't proposing to seek rescue through the medium of mime, so he persevered. "I think I sprained my ankle? Or broke it?" Broke sounded better, but in fact Jared was pretty damn sure it was just a sprain. (For a given value of _just_ that didn't involve being miles up and downhill from his rental car, and ignored the way his lower leg was ballooning up into a weird swollen blue appendage which made him feel a little queasy when he looked at or touched it.) "Could you help me out?"

The stranger nodded briefly. "Car?" Gruff, but not weird, Jared decided. And no one else had been by in two hours, so this was rescue and he needed to cope with whatever that meant.

"At Milford," he responded, dolefully.

"Shit," said the woodsman. "You walk at all?"

Jared stood up and demonstrated his hobble. Slow, but functional.

"'Kay." The stranger looked along the path to civilisation, clearly planning for a long hike.

"Uh, could you reach my cellphone before we go?" Jared felt like an idiot. But: costly. And at some point, there would be civilisation and chargers. And he couldn't reach down the steep bank himself. Trying had brought him close to puking and was the reason he was sitting here instead of still hobbling.

The woodsman gave Jared a long look, sighed, and slipped down the bank and back up with the (useless, battery-dead) cell. "Here."

"Thank you. For everything."

"Not fixed you yet," said the stranger, hauling Jared's arm around his shoulders. Jared felt the thick muscles flex under his arm as they moved off. Strong, this guy. Plenty strong. He leaned a little more weight onto his rescuer, heard the grunt of small additional effort, and focused on walking and not thinking about how much this guy was his type. In another world, where Jared had full use of both feet and could skedaddle if he'd picked the wrong guy to try out.

After about an hour of painful progress, though, Jared's innate love of people won through. He started trying a few comments. Getting responses, short but real. The guy was Jensen. He'd lived hereabouts a while. Had family. Worked in forestry. Liked walking even on his days off. Didn't use a whole lot of pronouns.

After a bit, another obvious topic arose. "Are we going to make it before dark?" What Jared could recognise of their surroundings was depressingly late in his walk.

"Nope." Jensen was unmoved.

"You have a flashlight?" Jared really, really didn't want to walk through the forest at night, but he also felt dumb enough at this point to pretend to be totally fine.

Jensen stopped for a second, leaving Jared stumbling in surprise. "Gonna be another four-five hours out. Not doing that blind. 'S a foresters' hut here'bouts. We'll shelter right enough there."

Okay. Out all night with a strange guy. This was the kind of thing Jared regularly did for fun in real life. Out here? Real life felt a whole lot too real. He couldn't picture a 'foresters' hut' being much like his regular sleeping places. Bugs and vermin and weird critter noises in the dark. And probably not much to sleep on. Maybe a little late in Jared's life to play prim, but he was suddenly flustered. He shut his gaping mouth, and trudged on.

"Hut," said Jensen, after a while, and his neck shifted against Jared's inner arm as his head jerked left. It was a small building, pretty solid and welcome in the hint of falling dusk. Inside, it smelled musty but not gross, and the open door soon freshened the air. Jared sat on the only bed, feeling useless, as Jensen looked for and located matches, a lamp, canned food, a camping stove and some tin plates and a pan.

"Can I help?" he said, about halfway through this. Jensen cast him a tired look.

"Elevation and compression," was all he said, and added to Jared's inferiority by also locating a first aid kit and throwing it over. "No ice here. Sorry 'bout that."

Later, "I have to pee," said Jared, as Jensen lit the stove. "Is there-"

"Outhouse." Jensen watched Jared as he said it, but Jared wasn't _that_ naïve.

"All the luxuries," he said, and hobble-hopped outside. Pretty sure that got a smile from Jensen as he passed. By the time he made his way back in, there were good smells rising. Chili, mostly, and indestructible tortillas from a yellow packet.

Jared fell on them ravenously, and ate his half in silence. Jensen was still munching as Jared sat back, allowing himself a little belch. "I have trail mix. And chocolate. Want dessert?"

They ate the remaining food more slowly, exchanging a few more words. Jensen made coffee, milkless and full of sugar. Jared stringently ignored all his learned health advice and the memory of cinnamon and extra foam. Hot, and good, and available. Be glad of it.

"Getting dark," said Jensen, startlingly. He never started conversations. "You play dominoes?"

"What? No!" Jared blinked. "Do you?"

"'S been known. Nothing else here to entertain us."

Okay. Well, dominoes… he could deal, Jared supposed. He shifted his feet, and flinched as his ankle jabbed.

"Hell," he said, mildly, and tried to get a look at his ankle.

"You didn't wrap it?" Jensen observed, sounding tetchy.

Jared shook his head. "Seemed a little-" Outside what I know how to do, he didn't say. Instead, "Couldn't round my jeans."

"Fucks' sake," Jensen snapped. "Take'em off, I'll do it. Or you'll be sleeping here another night and I ain't got time to wait for damsels all week."

Stung, Jared wriggled out of his fashionably-tight jeans (okay, not so much fashionable as fuckable, and generally speaking they were a hit. Not with Jensen, apparently.). It hurt, and he swore, but Jensen didn't need to help him, which felt like a small victory.

It did leave Jared in his underwear, of course, with Jensen crouched between his thighs attending to his ankle. Painful enough that the erotic possibilities didn't leap out at Jared till the wrapping was finished and Jensen was checking the bandage fit. Then his dick suddenly became interested. Underwear not designed to hide that, and Jared wasn't surprised when Jensen paused, staring carefully somewhere way south of his crotch.

"Sorry." Confront, don't hide, was Jared's way. If there was going to be homophobia, get it out there and argue.

But, "That for me?" said Jensen, unbelievably. His hand slipped a little way up Jared's leg.

Jared lost his cool. "What?"

"Forget it." Jensen pulled back, stood up, ready to bolt.

"No! No, what? Sorry. I just- This doesn't happen." Jared flailed, explanatorily. "I don’t get rescued. And gorgeous rescuers aren't ever interested. And nobody just accidentally spends a night in a hut with the perfect fuck, you know?"

Jensen's face gave nothing away there, till the last sentence, and then he grinned. Much, much more gorgeous, Jared noted, disbelieving. "Setting yourself a high bar there, Jare."

"Hey, I get _great_ reviews," Jared grinned back. "And yeah. Totally for you. Want to get fucked?"

"Rather fuck you," said Jensen. "That okay? Easier on your ankle, too," he added, a palpable afterthought, but relevant.

"Uh-" said Jared. "Yeah, but… lube?" He didn't _mind_ as such, switched up often enough, though his height made guys generally assume he topped. But lube-less sex, ouch. No. Hobbling another five miles or so with a busted ankle and a pain in the ass? No, thanks.

"Oil," said Jensen. "And spit. Open you up real nice." He breathed it, back on his knees between Jared's thighs.

Jared stopped arguing.

Jensen peeled him out of his clothes, only the ankle bandage remaining. He pressed hands on Jared's inner thighs, pushing up and out till Jared was spread wide. Jensen spat on his fingers, worked it into Jared's crack, slippery and promising. Jensen ignored Jared's dick, leaving Jared to take care of himself. Hardly needed, Jared was stiff as hell already. Jensen dipped his head, harsh bristly beard brushing at Jared's inner thighs. He pulled Jared's thighs further open, spread his ass cheeks open further, and licked, hard.

"Jeeezus _fuck_ ," shouted Jared. Totally unexpected, and hot as fuck, as Jensen worked his tongue in, forging a path, wetting Jared deliberately with spit all the time. Jensen was rumbling a little, some kind of talk or thought or excitement finding its way out in a croon at the back of his throat that vibrated through Jared's ass. Then he pulled back, and stripped.

A world away from the world of waxing, Jared thought, balls tightening with _want_ at this _different_ , desirable man. Long, wiry-muscled body, lightly furred with hair all over his chest, thickening up down his belly. Hair on his lower back and lightly across his ass too, Jared saw as Jensen turned briefly away, reached for the cooking oil, and dumped a glob in his palm, running it swiftly down behind Jared's balls and using his free hand to work it into Jared's asshole. Slippery and squirmy, and more liquid than Jared liked, and he utterly did not care as two fingers worked in, too fast and so welcome, opening him up with immediate intent.

"Good enough?" was all Jensen said, running his oily hand over his own dick, slicking up and putting on a brief show, flashing his cockhead through his fingers and making Jared's mouth water. Lying back and not contributing was not his natural style. But, hell, maybe later. They had a long night, and nothing else to distract but dominoes.

"Yes," was all he vocalised, though the way his thighs opened back out and his hips canted up said plenty. _Take me, my hero_ , he carefully didn't say. But it was in the air, a new vibe, a sharp edge to simple rutting sex, as Jensen fitted his dick to the notch of Jared's asshole, starting sharp, jabbing, shallow thrusts that worked through the less than perfect lube and Jared's slight unaccustomedness. They both groaned as Jensen finally made it home, all the way in, balls resting briefly against Jared's ass.

"There," said Jensen. And that seemed to be all he needed to say. His hands under Jared's ass, lifting for the best angle, he set a fast, slapping rhythm, leaving Jared nothing to do but lay back and take it. Legs loose and flailing over Jensen's shoulders, one hand lightly on his own dick, which barely needed the encouragement. Jensen was grunting with each thrust, and Jared found himself matching the sound, deepening the noises as the rhythm sped, the thrusts deeper and darker and driving him _closer_.

Jensen didn't wait about for Jared's orgasm, just thrust until he came, and leaned back to give Jared space to work his hand in earnest, Jensen's slightly-softening, dripping dick still very much in Jared's ass. Jensen's eyes focused clearly in the dark room, watching Jared's hand, gleaming in pleasure as Jared groaned one more time and came hard, all over his belly and hand.

Jensen pulled out, stood up, and tossed a washcloth from the sink in Jared's direction. Jared spared a thought for other foresters expecting a kitchen rag not full of spunk, but he reckoned now that Jensen was practical enough to have a solution. Most likely, another washcloth. His head was spinning, with the transition from pain and trudging to fed, fucked and comfortable in a small but viable bed.

"Uh, thanks?" he tried. "For, you know, rescuing, and stuff." He waved a hand down his splayed, used, sticky and fucked body. Jensen quirked a brow.

"Not done yet."

He didn't explain whether he meant rescuing, or _stuff_. But he didn’t put the lamp out, or fetch the dominoes. So Jared guessed it was going to be a long, pleasurable night in this bed.

Damsel in distress? Fucking _awesome_ gig.

*


End file.
